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Tinder has suspended me again, mid-conversation with a handful of matches, and I hate being the guy who just disappears.

A woman on Tinder appreciates my… specificity.

A Ladino love song, a massage parlor in Soho, and the particular eroticism of a woman in green camouflage pants.

Sometimes three words are all you need.

A beautiful woman’s gaze on a street corner — forward, warm, unreadable.

The first time is always the best time. At least, in my imagination.

She never once tripped the wire of my fragile desire, and now she’s gone.

Consent, legalized.

It’s challenging to establish trust and safety in online relationships. Especially, if you’re sending me pictures and movies. Here’s my code of conduct, how I propose to keep you safe.